This year, for the first time in my life, I will participate in the March of the Living on Polish soil. As a mayor, as an Israeli citizen, as a Jew, and as someone who has personally experienced the profound heartbreak of the past year and a half, I travel there with a heavy heart but also with a deep sense of purpose.
Since October 7, 2023, our lives have changed. My city, Sderot, once again found itself on the front lines. Terrorists invaded our city, residents were murdered, and children witnessed atrocities beyond description. Amid all this pain, we saw once again the face of pure evil – an evil that takes lives simply because they are Jewish, simply because they are Israeli. Historical memory became our daily reality.
Therefore, this year more than ever, my journey to the death camps is not merely one of remembrance – it is one of presence, of making a statement.
I am going there in the name of my residents. On behalf of elderly Holocaust survivors who live modestly in Sderot. On behalf of second- and third-generation survivors who are raising their children here despite everything. On behalf of the soldiers who left their homes and continue to protect our country’s borders, even now. On behalf of the children who still ask why rockets are fired at us – and also for those who no longer ask, because they’ve grown used to it.
I travel also in the name of bereaved families – those who’ve lost fathers and sons, sisters and brothers, bearing the burden of hatred. They, too, are part of this March of the Living.
During the march, our eyes will look toward the past, but our feet will walk forward in the name of our future. We will move through Holocaust memory – but proudly carry our Israeli present: alive, determined, and faithful. We will carry the flag of a free, democratic, Jewish nation – and declare loudly to the world: We are here to overcome our enemies and remain here forever.
Especially this year, when Jews are attacked in Paris, London, Amsterdam, New York, and campuses across America, it is more vital than ever to raise our voices, to say clearly: Memory does not remain locked away in museums. It lives. It pulses within us. It cries out when innocents are murdered near Gaza. It is present when children run to shelters, when families embrace each other in moments of fear, and when an entire nation embraces Holocaust survivors, ensuring their dignity, their rights, and human warmth.
Marching to remember but also to move forward
I am here to remember the six million – but also to ensure we keep building, dreaming, singing, and loving. I travel to bring Sderot there – the city that never breaks. The city that chooses life. The city that fights every day anew for normalcy amidst the abnormal.
The March of the Living is not just a ceremony. It is a reminder. It is a moral call. It demands that we continue fighting not only for our safety but also for our humanity, our identity, and the values that unite us even in the hardest of times. I am here to march for those who no longer can – and to return home to continue building, hoping, and remembering.
The writer is the mayor of Sderot.